


Implicitly

by nauticalgalaxies (XvoodooXXblueX)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, M/M, hot sex of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 18:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10223951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XvoodooXXblueX/pseuds/nauticalgalaxies
Summary: Jack is worried about Charles' mood and determined to make him feel better. And maybe, just maybe, he'll make himself feel better as well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Got a prompt on tumblr and this happened. Enjoy.

For as long as Jack had known him, Charles Vane had always been more a man of action than of thought and rumination. That was not, by any means, to say that he was an unintelligent man. Quite the contrary, in fact. While not a learned man, beyond his ability to read, Charles' intelligence was one bred and honed by the life he'd led and by the experience he'd gathered. It was instinct, as much as anything else, and action lay in his nature, in the power of his body, in his very being. Now, without a crew, without a ship of his own and without Eleanor Guthrie to provide distraction as well as opposition, Charles seemed to find it hard to get his fill of those elements that drove him, that gave him life.

Jack had learned of Charles' recent attempt in aiding the slaves, hands on, in rebuilding the fort. He'd heard from Mr. Scott his concerns about this and that he had already relayed them to Charles himself. Mr. Scott seemed surprised and relieved that Charles had relented, but Jack felt differently. His feelings were quite the opposite, in fact. He was not surprised that Charles had relented. He knew Charles would never do anything that would upset the slaves. He was, however, not relieved, because he saw the effects the current situation was having on Charles. They were worrying, for Charles had spent the last three nights, at least, holed up in exactly this tavern, Jack's own damn tavern, drinking the night away, thinking and brooding. And Jack knew this weather, could read the signs. He could see the storm brewing and he knew that when it broke, it would find nothing to break against. Jack had pulled Charles out of many such lows, had sat by him through opium hazes and patched him up after fights that could have very well been fatal. For a man gifted with such a strong intrinsic survival instinct, Charles had a truly terrible knack for self-destruction. Jack could see such a storm brewing now and without anything for it to break against, Charles himself would feel the full brunt of it. Jack found himself with an iron-clad mind to avert that happening. And, well, he may, himself, have been a little drunk that night and feeling nostalgic. 

Anne had gone upstairs with Max and Jack had not joined them. It was not something they did often anymore, though Jack did not trust Max and certainly never would. He felt no attraction towards Max. She was a beautiful woman, of course, but it was a superficial beauty to him. It was the beauty of a doll you saw in a shop window and acknowledged, but it did not pull him through the doorway to make the purchase. And while Jack would have done anything to protect Anne, he had resigned himself to the devastating fact that at the moment, letting Anne live out whatever this was, was the best thing for her. He just hoped it would not last for ever, because Jack knew his heart couldn't survive it. So, maybe it was for that reason that Jack had decided to do something he hadn't done in a long time. 

Jack let one of the girls know to ask Captain Vane up to Jack's office which they often did business in. He simply assumed that his friend would be there by the time Jack had finished giving the house a final once-over to ensure that everything was running smoothly for the night. When he was done, he sauntered into the office with all the air of a man content with a day of work well-done. Charles was there, already glaring at him as if he'd prepared that look specifically for Jack's arrival. 

"What is it, Jack?" he demanded.

Jack crossed the few paces from the door to where Charles was sitting on the visitors' chair and, pushing down the leg Charles had crossed over the other, squarely planted himself into the captain's lap. He didn't give Charles the chance to protest before kissing him, hard. Charles broke the kiss after a heartbeat, almost pushing Jack off. Almost.

Charles gave Jack one of those looks, one of the ones Jack didn't think were possible. Eyes narrowed, yet one eyebrow haughtily raised and that impossible, minute smirk on his lips. 

"I'm not your whore, Jack," Charles drawled. 

"I assure you, the thought had never crossed my mind. As I don't intend to pay you." Jack could play this game as well as any, especially with Charles. 

"I saw Anne go upstairs with the Madame a while ago." Jack noted that Charles no longer called Max a whore and was momentarily hit with just how much times had changed, how far they'd all come, only to teeter on the brink of losing it all. Jack quickly schooled his features, though he could see in Charles' eyes that he'd seen Jack's expression slip. He decided to quickly change the subject.

"That's not why I'm here, Charles. You know, if I'd planned this as a "fuck you" to Anne, you're the wrong person to do it with." It was true. On the occasions, though they'd been few and far between and lay far back in what Jack would now, but not without a grimace, call their youth, Anne had been quite encouraging of their coupling. Had enjoyed it or her own benefit, even.

"Then what?" Charles asked impatiently. 

"You need it." It was a simple statement based on observation.

"I need it?" Again with he raised eyebrow and an amused tone. 

"You haven't slept in days." Jack wriggled further up Charles' lap again and made a point of doing more than was needed for him to not fall off his perch. Charles gave an almost inaudible sound in response. 

Jack took one hand from Charles' shoulder and cupped the side of his face, running his thumb slowly over one sharp cheek bone. There'd been a time, way back, when he'd have killed for cheek bones like that. 

"It's showing," he said. 

"You saying I look like shit?" Charles sounded bored more than anything, tired probably, and weary in a way that made Jack feel uncomfortable. He'd so hoped to get a rise out of Charles. But he wouldn't give up yet. All hope was not lost, because at least he hadn't been thrown halfway across the room yet, with Charles storming out. 

"Never," Jack exclaimed. "You know I could never say that about you. Unless it were true, like that time I pulled you out of that Tortuga crew's cell who I told you not to get into it with because-"

"Shut up, Jack," Charles snapped, something akin to exasperation in his voice. He hated Jack going on about that because he knew Jack had been right.

Charles gripped Jack's hips and pulled him closer before closing his lips on Jack's. It sent a shiver down Jack's spine, the way Charles kissed. It was every bit as possessive as he remembered, though with decidedly more beard now. He didn't think Charles was capable of doing anything by halves, even kissing. He wondered about the beard, though, sometimes; wondered if it had an influence other than a long sea voyage and other, more pressing matters.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Jack said, once Charles allowed him to draw a full breath. 

"You really want to do this," Charles mused with a chuckle. "Fuck, we haven't done this since...." He shook his head, obviousy failing to pinpoint a moment in time. 

"Oh, it's been a really fucking long time," Jack confirmed. Suddenly, they were both grinning. 

"My tent, or your..."

"Your tent is cozy," Jack said, "but when there is a bed to be had, I will always choose the bed."

Jack slipped off Charles' lap and led the way.

"My tent is not cozy," Charles grumbled, as they momentarily ventured into the din of the brothel. 

"Oh, but it is," Jack drawled. There were things in life in which Charles was positively hedonistic and those included his tent, his women and his rum.

They entered a room that Jack had been using as his "bedroom" and as soon as the door was closed, Jack found himself shoved against it none too gently. Something in him thrilled at that in a way only Charles could make him feel. He'd often wondered how it was that the knowledge that Charles could probably break him in half with not much effort could make him so hard, but he supposed part of it was the safety of knowing that Charles wouldn't. Like this, Jack had no qualms giving himself to the sensation fully.

In the onslaught of the heat that was having Charles' tongue invade his mouth, Jack scrabbled helplessly at the hem of Charles' shirt. He knew what lay beneath and he wanted it. Charles, however, grabbed Jack's hands and very effectively pinned them above his head. Jack gave an annoyed whine and Charles broke the kiss to chuckle.

"Fuck you," Jack groused, though he was satisfied to feel that Charles was not unaffected by what they'd done so far.

"You wanted this, Jack," Charles reminded him, voice sly, a dangerously mischievous sparkle in his eyes, visible in the low light of a candle. Fuck, Jack hadn't known he'd missed that.

"Yes, I wanted this," Jack said. "And if you let go of me, and let me take off your clothes, maybe i can give you what you want."

"You think you know what I want?" Charles asked, though he did let go of Jack. 

"Yes," Jack said. He backed Charles up towards the bed, hand on his solid chest. When Charles stood at the bed's edge, Jack ran the hand down and underneath Charles' shirt. That, at least, got a reaction, a small shiver from Charles that encouraged Jack to go on. He slid up Charles' shirt and Charles helped in getting it off, leaving him bare-chested and cast in gold and shadows, in the dim candle light. Fuck. Jack no longer dwelt on it, had got used to seeing Charles shirtless, but there had been a time, when he'd first joined the crew, when this had been a real problem. It was safe to say that absolutely no one would dispute that Charles looked magnificent. 

"You're staring," Charles teased and it was equally safe to say that Charles Vane knew perfectly well just how magnificent he looked. 

"And you wear too many damn clothes." Charles pulled Jack forward by his shirt and divested him of it and his coat.

"You have no sense of fashion," Jack countered, placing a kiss below Charles' ear, the one that had the ring in it, and then pulling with his teeth at said ring. Charles gave a short grunt, not yet a groan, but it was appreciated. 

"You have no sense of practicality," Charles said and was cut short when Jack unceremoniously slid his mouth to one pebble-hard nipple.

"Fuck," Charles gasped. Some things never changed, after all. 

"Yes, yes, we're getting there," Jack drawled, using exactly the voice he used on the unruly pirate captains in their meetings. He unlaced Charles' trousers, freeing the other man's half hard, and quite frankly very large, cock.

"Now, getting back to what I think you want," Jack continued, in the same business-like voice. He trailed his mouth over Charles' chest and stomach and all the way down, "I think you want me to get you so hard you have absolutely no choice but to bury your enormous cock in me, for fear you'll go insane. You will most likely then throw me on that bed or any other surface of your choosing and fuck me into absolute oblivion and I assure you, I will enjoy it immensely."

Charles laughed incredulously, even as he had to use the low bed post to steady himself as Jack began to lap at his cock.

"You're a fucking riot, Jack," he said. 

"I'm right, am I not?" Jack asked mischievously, momentarily interrupting what he'd been doing. Charles buried his hand in Jacks hair and pressed his head forward in a very clear answer.

By the time Jack had arrived at taking Charles in fully, as much as he could, at least, Charles was beyond talking. He was all savage grunts and the occasional groan and gripping Jack's hair so hard it was just on the painful side. Jack found the urge to reach down to tug at his own erection almost overwhelming, but he had to concentrate not to choke himself. That was never fun for either party. Above him, Charles' chest was heaving, sweat glistening on his skin. If Jack hadn't desperately wanted the fuck this promised, he would have brought Charles off like this, just to watch him. Charles' head was thrown back, his eyes closed, his hair wildly hanging down his back and over his shoulders.

The moment Jack felt that Charles was close, he stopped. Charles' groans of pleasure stopped to give way to an animalistic growl of disagreement. Laying a placating hand on Charles' stomach, Jack rose from the floor until they were on even footing again. Charles was breathing hard, his eyes impossibly dark as he looked at Jack. 

"Get on the bed," Charles commanded, his voice even more raspy than usual. Jack retrieved the oil that they kept in every one of the brothel's rooms and got on the bed, Charles crawling onto it behind him. 

"Want to watch?" Jack asked mischievously and a little breathless at the thrill of what he was about to do. Charles gave him a look as if to say 'What do you think?'

Almost gleefully, Jack coated his fingers with oil and positioned himself perfectly for Charles to see. As he pushed in two fingers at once, moaning at the sensation and feeling his cock twitch in anticipation, he'd never been more grateful for all the times he'd taken up Anne on the offer of something up his arse.

Jack looked back, fingers up his arse and panting, only to find Charles watching him as if he were a ravenous wild cat and Jack a particularly tasty bit of prey. The thought brought a grin to Jack's lips. 

"Enjoying yourself?" Charles drawled.

"Immensely," Jack replied, loosening himself up even further. He had no patience though and he could feel the same impatience radiating off Charles. 

"Ready," Jack groaned, now in a state of desperate arousal, cock hard and wanting, while Charles had had some time to cool down.

Charles surged and grabbed Jack around the waist, pushing him down on his back on the bed. They shared a feral kiss, both of them moaning into it, before Charles positioned himself. He had Jack pinned with the gaze of a viper as he hooked Jack's legs over his shoulders and folded Jack in half in a way that laid him obscenely bare. The effect obviously wasn't lost on Charles, judging by the way he gave Jack's hole a hot glance before pushing into Jack with a groan. 

Jack gasped, but his breath got stuck in his throat momentarily. Shit, he'd almost forgotten how this felt, how fucking huge Charles was and the heat he radiated at any given moment. Charles' hands were gripping Jack's thighs so hard they'd leave marks. 

"Fuck, move," Jack urged, as Charles was simply still, eyes closed and brow furrowed in pleasure.

Even with his eyes half open, Charles managed to give Jack a look that wordlessly called him impatient, probably accompanied by some epithet, but the first thrust of Charles' cock drove all those thoughts out of Jack's mind. They spent the first few thrusts familiarising themselves with each other, remembering that they fit together surprisingly well. Though Charles was still holding back, Jack knew he could fuck him through the bed and probably the next floor down. They'd never been particularly gentle with each other and maybe that's why they worked. Jack liked it rough and trusted Charles implicitly. Charles didn't have to hold back, didn't have to worry he'd hurt Jack, but would still take care not to.

Slowly, Charles seemed to remember these unspoken truths as well and his thrusts grew stronger. Jack moaned wantonly in response. Charles mirrored Jack's pleasure with open-mouthed gasps and grunts of his own. Jack watched that mouth, mesmerised. His eyes fell to his own leaking cock, standing proud between them and it experienced a jolt as Jack remembered those rare times he'd had the privilege to feel Charles' mouth exactly there. He was fucking talented with that mouth, Jack could say.

Jack could feel himself rocking back into the bed, now, with Charles' thrusts, as they gained momentum. It stole his breath and made his body sing. He gazed up at Charles out of lust-heavy eyes and found Charles lost in his own pleasure, a beautiful sight. Charles' eyes, which had been closed, opened suddenly to meet Jack's gaze and he descended like a hawk to kiss Jack fiercely. Jack found himself practically folded in half, his leg muscles complaining, but that was the only part of him, body or mind, that had any issue with the position. For the short moment it lasted, Charles had to still his movements and Jack's hands found their way to tangling in wild, sea-swept hair. Jack tugged on a braid and was rewarded by a most satisfying moan from Charles. Jack wasn't hoping for much, but if they ended up doing this more often, he was definitely venturing further down that path. He pulled at the braid again.

Charles broke the kiss and it was obvious he wanted to look annoyed, but none of it translated to his features. All Jack could see was raw hunger and, aroused as he was, with his hair in disarray, Charles looked a little Wrecked, Jack was proud to say. Jack chuckled fondly. Charles' lips twitched into a grin and then he abruptly hoisted Jack's hips further up and began to pound into him in earnest. Jack would deny it later that he yelped in an entirely undignified manner and was thereafter lost to the current of pleasure that made both of them forget and neither of them care. 

Jack came vocally and unabashedly, with a little assistance from his hand and Charles followed soon after, having watched Jack with rapt focus. In the afterglow, Charles rolled off Jack, leaving both of them to breathe hard as they regained their bearings. 

They spoke little as they shared a smoke and settled down. Jack rolled close to press his form against Charles. Charles responded by wrapping one strong arm around Jack's shoulders, giving a little squeeze before loosening it to a comfortable embrace. Sometimes it was still a wonder to Jack. He knew there was a time when Charles barely knew how to show affection, barely knew what affection was. Oh, how far they'd come and how proud Jack was to have been a part of it all.

Late into the night Jack was dozing, his head pillowed warm against Charles' chest, but sleep eluded him, because right next to him, Charles wasn't sleeping either. He was rather staring at the ceiling and smoking. 

"What are you doing?" Jack murmured. "I'd hoped you'd be sleeping."

"Smoking," Charles answered so smoothly, Jack had to snort with laughter. 

"Thinking and staring a hole into my ceiling, is more what I'm seeing," Jack countered. 

Charles groaned. "Fuck, Jack, let a man think," he said. 

Jack sighed, was almost ready to let the issue lie, but then stubbornly refused.

"They're not your responsibility," Jack said. 

Charles' eyes slid over to him, narrowed and defensive. 

"They are," he said vehemently. "They became my responsibility the moment you sent me after that ship."

While he wasn't as angry as he'd been, Jack knew Charles still harboured some resentment over the issue of the slave ship. He wasn't surprised, had expected nothing less. He'd tried to explain. He'd tried to make Charles see why he'd sent him, specifically, to retrieve those slaves and the only regret Jack had over doing so was the pain he was causing Charles. 

"Doesn't that make them my responsibility?" Jack challenged, playing stubborn. Even in the dim light, he could see Charles' fierce gaze pinning him.

Charles didn't answer for the moment, so Jack continued.

"Yes or no? Why? Why not?" Jack found his own argument getting more vehement, felt himself getting more heated over the matter. He fucking hated silences, he fucking hated not talking about the giant fucking elephant in the room when every person present knew it was right there.

"I'll tell you why," he pressed on. "It's because you got out. And somehow you feel guilty about it, so you make them your responsibility, try to share their burden to atone for that."

Jack shut up suddenly. While these were thoughts he'd had on more than one occasion, he'd never voiced them, especially not to Charles' face. Now that they'd got to this point, he was sure that either he was about to be punched in the face or maybe, just maybe, they'd get somewhere with this. 

The punch never came. While they'd both sat up during the argument, because honestly, who has an argument lying down, Charles didn't move. Instead, he was watching Jack with his head cocked and an incredulous look in place that was very clearly fighting realisation.

"Fuck you, Jack."

It was fine. By now, Jack could tell in the tone of voice when "fuck you, Jack" was meant as an insult, or an endearment or just "Fuck you, Jack, you're right." It was a habit both Charles and Anne shared and the fact how blatantly similar they were was an entirely different can of worms Jack would keep for another time. 

"Charles, I know you're worried," Jack said, calm now, sympathetic. "What will happen to them, how they're treated. And I promise you, no harm will come to them."

Charles had looked away, his jaw clenched, his fist clenched in the sheet. It was how Jack knew he was getting somewhere. Charles Vane did not do heart-to-hearts. When they did occur, they made him deeply uncomfortable, but that didn't mean they couldn't affect his thoughts and actions. 

"Consider this," Jack said. "By your hand, their lot is already considerably improved in contrast to what it was before. And I promise you the moment that fort is repaired, they will never have to see hide nor hair of us again. Please, trust me."

Charles turned his head and gave Jack a long, hard look. Then he threw himself to the bed with a huff. It wasn't an answer, exactly, but for Jack it was enough. 

Jack leaned over and ran his thumb over Charles' cheekbone, as he'd done before and kissed him softly. 

"It's not our fault," he said, for what it was worth. Charles caught Jack's hand in his, before Jack could pull it away. 

"So, I'll make you a bargain," Jack suggested, as he let Charles play with his hand absent-mindedly. "I can't have you working with the slaves, but that doesn't mean I don't need someone to lead them."

Charles perked up at that suggestion. "And what's my end of the bargain?" he asked suspiciously.

"Only that you let us both get a good night's rest now and stop hovering over the place like an unreasonably attractive storm cloud." Jack grinned for emphasis to his words.

"Fair," Charles said after a moment of consideration, which Jack was pretty sure was for nothing but show. "I accept."

Relieved, Jack laid back down and pulled Charles with him where they'd spend the rest of the night quietly tangled in the sheets and each other.


End file.
